Return to Nothing
by Chesed
Summary: Instrumentality is for the old.


Return to Nothing

"When I was young I asked my father if there was a heaven. He said there wasn't, so I decided to make one."

-Keel Lorenz

"_The curfew announced earlier today is still in effect. In addition, the government has requested that you limit all calls to local ones as several areas of the country are still under restriction as the terrorist forces are dealt with. The government once again thanks you for your time and apologizes for any inconvenience these restrictions cause…"_

The television continued to blabber on as the residents of the nursing home stared dully at it. Some of them were napping in their worn green armchairs, while others simply stared off into oblivion. A few however were very focused on what little information the flickering screen was providing. Among these was Nozo Abe, a man who had once been called Sensei Abe by his students. 

He was entirely focused on the screen, though it would have been difficult to tell from his eyes, which seemed to be almost shut from behind his thick, round glasses. His posture, however, told a truer story. His elbows rested on his knees, and he leaned forward to peer more closely at the TV as though proximity might help him discern the secrets the government tried to hide. It was probably because of his nearsightedness, though. Time had taken many things, his eyes had been one of them.

He let loose a sigh and leaned back in his chair, absently scratching at his head through his thin white hair. He didn't like it here. It was like being a child again without any of the wonder or energy of youth. The nurses babied him, treated him with contempt, treated him like a fool. He probably was, but he had also been a teacher, he deserved more respect than that. The worst part was there was hardly anything to do except watch TV. There was too much empty time where he was alone with his memories. He lived in them, he had for the past fifteen years, but even then it was so much easier to deal with them when he felt like he was still living.

He had been a teacher once, only a few months before even, in Tokyo-3, but when the city was destroyed, there was simply no place to go. Some government workers, worthless busybodies, had shoved him in here when they found he had no living family. No respect for the elderly, none at all. Damn kids…

It was so hard sometimes, in this empty place, just to not give up and become another zombie. But what was the point when all that he had left to look forward to was death? He didn't want to die yet, but it didn't matter much, he wasn't alive either.

The woman on the television screen began to repeat the government's official line over again, using calm and cool tones to reassure the viewers that everything was fine and they would be able to leave their homes again shortly. He snorted, not damn likely. He knew how the government was, he had lived through Second Impact damnit. Of course, back then he had lived in Nebukawa…

Strange, the TV had just turned to static. Oh well, it was no matter. He turned slightly and situated himself in his chair to take a nap. Watch TV or nap, one or the other, there were no other options aside from dying. But, that's how it was, an anticlimactic end to a long life. Perhaps he should be bitter, but he was just so tired…

Suddenly, all fatigue left him as he caught sight of something truly… amazing. An elderly woman, ravaged by age whose mind had fled long ago, suddenly caught his attention. She had a mat of messy white hair, and her body seemed overweight and all too thin at the same time. Her most disturbing feature, however, was normally her face. For hours she would simply stare off into nothingness with dull black eyes and drool. He couldn't help but feel pity for her, and a little bit of fear that he might end up that way all too soon. What had amazed him, though, was the fact that she was moving. Her eyes were focusing at something in the distance and she was beginning to smile. All that dullness and fatigue was beginning to leave her features as a smile began to grow on her face as she gazed at whatever had caught her attention. 

"Ichiro…" she murmured softly, and began to reach up with one hand, trembling with happiness.

Suddenly, the elderly teacher felt a hand on his own shoulder, soft and effeminate. It was probably a nurse, though why she would want his attention he couldn't imagine. Yet, there was something familiar about it. He turned his head, but the questions died on his lips as he beheld the smiling face of…

"Oni…"

His wife… long gone, was standing before him. She was young, beautiful, smiling, everything he remembered from the happiest times in his life. Her dark hair fell far below her shoulders, as she liked it in spite of the style of keeping it short. It was how he had liked it as well. She was offering her hand to him, and he began to reach up towards it, able to do nothing else. He couldn't think, he couldn't understand, he could simply feel the incredible emotions that were coursing through his veins, making him feel alive again in a way he hadn't in so, so long. His hand, wrinkled with age and time, slowly edged into her luminous, open palm. Around him, the other residents were disappearing, leaving behind puddles of a liquid he didn't recognize, nor did he notice. Because she was so radiant, everything was so… If this was death, then perhaps there was a heaven after all, and maybe getting old… it wasn't so bad.

None of them knew they had died several minutes before, the same time the television had abruptly gone out, in a tremendous explosion originating above Tokyo-3. None of them would have cared, for this small home of the world's forgotten had already been swept away on the wings of Instrumentality.

So much light…

And the fingers of dawn, those luminous beams, crept through the windows of the classroom to illuminate the students. He peered about from behind his glasses at the assembled students. Ah good, there was the class representative getting telling everyone to rise and bow. Hikari was a nice girl, respectful to her elders, but she was getting old too fast. It wasn't right for a child to take everything so seriously, but children were like that. They tried to be adults only to realize that being a child was better all along. Oh well, it was silly in a way. He resisted the urge to chuckle a bit as the class bowed then immediately collapsed in their seats and began to chatter amongst themselves. Hmm… yes, the Eva pilots were all there. In spite of his poor vision, the Rei Ayanami's cobalt blue hair stuck out against the brown of the other students, and he could see Sohryu's red hair as well as hear her voice. Strange how those two could be so different from each other. Ah yes, and there was Ikari. While he didn't stand out the way the other two did, the fact that Kensuke Aida was leaning in his direction and blathering on about this and that was a giveaway. Speaking of which…

"Aida!" 

Just because his eyes had gone bad didn't mean his hearing had as well. This was an idea the students failed to grasp all too often.

"Please excuse yourself and go get some buckets. I'll speak with you at lunch time."

There was a protesting groan, then he saw the boy push out of his desk and trudge off towards the hall, accompanied by the snickers of his friends and a sarcastic comment from Sohryu.

"Now then, where were we? Ah yes, I believe yesterday the end of class cut short my lecture on…"

For a moment, the old man felt a flash of guilt for talking about Second Impact again. He was talking about it again, wasn't he? It was so hard to remember, but he'd better be sure. Still, there were other aspects of history he should be talking about. Like he had before…

What did it matter now? They wouldn't listen either way. Damn kids, not like the ones before Second Impact, back then people respected him. He might've been destined for great things back in those days, or so he thought, but destiny had other plans. Oh well… it was easier just to talk about the memories. Everything since then seemed so faded and blurred, but those terrible years were so clear. It was easier just to talk them away than ignore them. 

He looked around, and realized he had gotten caught up in his thoughts. Hikari was giving him and odd look, and the rest of the class hadn't noticed at all.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I got caught up in my thoughts for a moment. Anyways, of all the events mankind has triumphed over, it is indeed Second Impact that taxed us the most. We had never before encountered a situation where there was so much devastation and change, yet somehow we have managed to triumph in spite of half the world's population dying. As you will recall, after the initial horrors of Second Impact, in the following months disastrous flooding claimed a good portion of the world's coastal land, including many cities. To make matters worse, terrorists took it as a sign from God to begin their Jihad and initiated a series of events that would ultimately lead to warfare on a near global scale. Combined with civil wars, revolutions, disease, and global economic collapse, it lead to the death of nearly half the population of the world. This downward spiral ended however on February 22nd 2001 when, in a massive N2 exchange between Japan, America, Russia, China, and other countries, over one hundred million people died. It was as close as we ever came to annihilation. Afterwards, the people of the world, looking with horror upon what they had done, sent delegates from all countries to convene and create a system where this could never happen again, carefully safeguarded by the United Nations…"

The lecture continued. It might've been interesting to those who had never heard it before, but to his students it was just a variation on a theme they had heard all too often. The chat windows were active, conversations were sprouting up everywhere, and suddenly the elderly teacher felt a flash of anger at his disrespectful class. He deserved their attention, he deserved their respect, he was their elder. For a moment he thought about sending the whole lot of them, even Ayanami who was currently staring out the window, out into the hall to hold buckets. That would be a lesson they couldn't ignore. They'd learn he was someone they ought to pay more attention to, wasn't he?

Nozo Abe suddenly stopped talking. He had never really questioned that idea before, he had merely assumed. Yet, now that he thought of it… how did he appear to them? Like a foolish old broken record of memories? Shouldn't he be doing more? He hadn't always been that way. He frowned suddenly, the motion barely visible on his heavily wrinkled face. He could remember what he had been like, but he couldn't remember how he had been like that. It had all left him when… so much time had passed. Well… he'd probably never be that dynamic teacher he remembered again, and he probably would never have their respect, but maybe he could teach them one true thing.

"Now, children, I want you to listen for a moment. Turn your computers off and quiet down," he said in a voice that was far different from his normal one. It was deeper and demanded attention, yet somehow it was more tired. Perhaps because he had not used it in so long. The class, amazed by the sudden turn of events, looked up, and he could hear several of them turning off their computer screens.

"I know most of you won't remember a thing I've said here, and I guess that's only fair, but there is a lesson I want to you keep with you. Some day you're going to grow up, and no matter how hard you try some day you're going to be as old as I am." There was just the faintest quiver in his voice, though no one seemed to hear it. They were actually paying attention, and for a moment the teacher felt a ghost of his old self resurface. "And when you're that old, you're going to have a lot of memories, some good, some bad, and you'll be tempted to spend all your time in them. But don't, don't leave the world, because living in memories isn't like being alive as you were in them. You can never have those times back, so you need to keep going forward."

"I know it's only been an hour, but you may have the rest of the day off. You do have a homework assignment, however. Take some time and write down where you'd like to go in your life, and some of your memories now. Don't worry about bowing, your attention was respect enough." He managed a weak smile, then turned and began to walk out. As he entered the halls, the light coming through the light coming through the windows was simply beautiful, and there was so much of it…

That's how he used to be a teacher, long before. That's how he wished be could've been a teacher, for them.

So much light…

"Hmmm… Mr. Abe, your record is indeed impressive, but I do have a few… concerns," the principal said, trying to sound tactful.

"Oh, yes?"

"Well, for one thing all of this is pre-Second Impact, and there're other things too," he younger, more portly man was frowning now as he flipped through some papers. He had a rough mob of hair that mixed black, gray, and white in a decidedly undignified combination, and his face seemed to be perpetually pinched in annoyance.

"Well, I've decided to come back to teaching, it just wasn't worth it to sit around anymore," he offered weakly. "By other things I assume you're talking about my dismissal."

"Yes… well." The man adjusted his glasses and avoided looking at him.

"I understand your concerns, but that was a good thirteen years ago. I'm not interested in rocking the boat anymore, I just want to teach again," Nozo Abe smiled weakly, trying to sound warm but coming off as supplicating and a little bit pitiful.

"Well, we definitely need some more teachers. We have a lot of new students coming now that Tokyo-3 is almost complete. 2010 is going to be a busy year for us," the principal chuckled then picked up a handkerchief off his desk and dabbed at his forehead with it. "Do I have your word though that we won't see a repeat of this."

"Of course, of course, I assure you." For a moment the elderly former teacher felt a pang of disgust with himself. The old him, or perhaps the younger him would've been disgusted with men like him now. Supplicating and sacrificing the truth for the sake of a job. He pushed those thoughts away, however, sulking and sitting around in that apartment in Tokyo-2 doing nothing except living off what scraps of savings he had left wasn't going to be possible much longer, both because of money and because it was so tiring only to have the memories for company. Maybe he could escape the memories here… it was a nice thought.

"Well, in that case I'll allow the board to consider it. It will be nice to have a teacher with some experience around here. All we had until you arrived were people fresh out of college and not a few with nothing more than high school training." The principal smiled weakly, then suddenly turned towards the window and squinted, his expression becoming sour as he began to dab at his forehead again. "It certainly is hot today." 

"I suppose, but that's the price of sunshine."

The older man nodded a bit then said, "Well, take care."

Nozo Abe nodded a bit then stood up and slowly walked out. His back hurt, but at least his arthritis wouldn't act up so much in the sun. It was nice to have a warm day, regardless of what the principal said, and it was so good to feel like he was worth something again.

Even if he no longer had the nobility and pride he used to, even if he had forgotten how he had it in the first place. But at least the sun was out, and the day was bright and filled with light.

So much light…

The damn car had stalled, right outside Tokyo too. For a moment he was tempted to kick the 1999 Honda Civic, but instead simply leaned against it and sighed. It had been his wife's, and he couldn't stand the idea of kicking anything that belonged to her. The tears threatened again. The service had been so bad since the Second Impact, he had been waiting for the tow truck for over two hours, and it would be so nice to see his children again. They were living with his sister now, that apartment in Tokyo held all he had left. Yes, it would be so nice to see everyone again, but things had been so bad since the Second Impact. Things had been so bad since his wife had been taken. 

He slowly slid down the door of his car, holding his tears back. He had taken the last five and a half months to cry and be alone while his sister had taken care of his children. It wouldn't be fair to her or the children to still be crying, he had to be strong for them. This was supposed to be a happy time, he thought as he stared out at the Tokyo skyline. It would be so nice to be with his family again.

At the age of fifty five Nozo Abe carried a certain dignity, even though he was shorter than the average Japanese person. He always kept perfect posture, even when the weight of the world bore down on him as it had for the last six months. His eyes were dark and focused, a sharp contrast to his neatly combed silver hair. He was a man people could respect, but he hadn't felt that way for a while.

So he simply sat there, staring at Tokyo, listening to the sounds of the world around him. There wasn't much traffic, more than half of it was government or military in nature. The price of gas was over five thousand yen a gallon where it was sold, and you had to get a pass from the government to travel anywhere. He had gotten his pass after pleading with one bitter, incompetent official then finally persuading him with a good thirty thousand yen. It was more than the gas had cost.

The bill for the tow truck would probably be even worse, much worse, probably more than the car was worth, he thought as he slowly withdrew a file from his pocket and began to occupy himself with cleaning his nails. He had to look sharp for everyone, like he had himself together again he thought, even though he was sitting on the dusty road. It was an ironic contradiction. Sort of funny perhaps, but still, the view was worth it. It was good to see humanity could still hold its head high after so much had happened, maybe someday he could hold his head high again as well. It was time to start his own process of rebuilding along with the world. The wars were almost over, or so the news said, and it was time to get everything back to how it was. Bury the dead, he thought with a sad, choked chuckle. They'd need teachers to help things get on their way, he'd get a job again soon, no problem.

He turned his head to the side just in time to catch a load of dust in his face as an official looking convoy passed him. Coughing and wiping at his eyes frantically, he just managed to make out what looked like three limousines and a handful of military looking Hum-Vees driving away from Tokyo. They were going fast as hell, too, it looked like over a hundred. Well, it probably made sense to drive like that with so few cars on the roads. 

'Damnit, now I'll have to wash my face before I get there too. I probably look like shit!' he thought, sputtering to get the dust out of his mouth. He wondered why they were going so fast, though, it looked like they were in a panic and it certainly wasn't a normal convoy by any means. Government officials, definitely, he thought. Maybe there were terrorists out and about, that could explain why they'd be in such a hurry, but that didn't explain why they'd be so obvious about their nature. There was no subtlety in a limousine. Oh well, bastards probably deserved to get blown up. They still managed to live high and mighty while the rest of the world went straight to hell. It was only fair they get treated like those they were supposed to lead. 

His eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to gaze out over the ocean. It was a lot closer now than it had been only a year ago. Close enough to swallow up a good many port cities. Close enough to swallow up the beaches. Close enough to swallow Nebukawa. His eyes slammed shut as he forced himself not to remember. He had spent enough time brooding, and now it was time to move on. That's what this journey symbolized, moving on.

He still wondered what the convoy was running away from, though. 

'Maybe the radio will say something, if it isn't being censored. What're the odds of that happening, though?' He thought as he reached in and turned it to the local news station.

"…horrible beyond all belief!" The announcer's voice came over the speaker's mid sentence. It was filled with more panic than anything the teacher had heard since Second Impact, and all he was able to do was freeze. "I'm getting reports in… oh God… Washington, New York, Moscow, Beijing… they're all gone! It's war, the world's gone insane, my wife was covering the talks at the UN building when…"

The announcer broke down in sobbing, and Nozo Abe was only able to simply stand there, shocked out of his mind.

The sobbing gradually disappeared as the announcer recomposed himself. He spoke weakly, yet with growing determination, "I don't know much of what's going on, they're saying it's N2 mines! Nukes for the future, goddamn bastards why the hell did they have to go and break things when they were finally getting better? Well, all you bastards can go fuck yourselves! I hope you're happy with all the blood on your hands." Nozo blinked, he had never heard swearing like this on the radio before. He hadn't even dreamed it was possible and something about it disturbed him more than the news of such destruction. It was like a fundamental truth in the world had gone wrong. The government censors would never allow something like that. The government censors would never allow any of this. The sobbing started again.

"Oh God, it's happening all over again. I don't know if we're in danger, but if you can hear this get out! Run away! Protect your families!" There was the sound of shouting in the background, followed by a door being kicked in. There was a single gunshot then silence.

Nozo simply stood there, his hand trembling. The government convoy had been running from something, and they weren't being discreet. Why weren't they in planes or helicopters? Because cars would be safer in the shockwave from an N2 mine… Oh God…

Nozo Abe began to run towards Tokyo. He had to warn them, he had to warn them! 

Then there was light.

Horrible, blinding light that took away his perfect vision and what was left of his family forever. The shockwave threw him about like a rag doll, injuring his back and taking away his proud posture, but perhaps that was just a secondary cause.

So much light.

He didn't remember much of Second Impact, no matter how much he talked about it. His mind held merely water, and darkness, and screaming.

So much screaming.

"Damnit all…" Nozo Abe muttered under his breath as he read through another rejection letter. The tenth one he had gotten this month. Fools, all of them, simply content to ignore the past and wallow in pleasant self-delusion. Oh well, there had to be someone else out there that was enlightened enough to be able to confront the past. He was about to go off on another tirade of swearing, something the now former teacher only did in private when suddenly he felt two soft hands come down on his shoulders and begin to rub them gently.

"Another one?" His wife Oni said sympathetically. Nozo nodded. They were in his study, going over various ads and trying to find him a new job. The soft, warm light from the lamp on the desk cast itself across the various letters strewn there, a sharp contrast to the harsh words that were written upon them.

"Yes, idiots… they think that by denying the past it'll go away," Nozo spoke bitterly then turned to face his wife. She was still beautiful to him in body and soul. Her face was no longer wrinkle free, and her long hair was no longer a perfect black, but her dark eyes still shined with energy and that half smile she always wore around him had never lost its mischief. Even though he had lost his job, he still had her the aging teacher reflected as he smiled back at her.

"Old men like you shouldn't be so proud. You know it's not want of ability that keeps you from getting a job," she said teasingly. 

For a moment, Nozo frowned a bit, then chuckled. From anyone else it would've offended him, but from her… well, he knew that she knew his ways wouldn't change. She liked his pride and dignity.

"Feh, it's pride that lets me look at myself in the mirror each morning. I never want to have to have to ignore my own history just to feel a little bit better about myself," he grumbled.

"I know, I know," she smiled then poked him in the shoulder. "Well, at least you got a good sense of money to go along with your ego. Your savings is going to take a nose dive come next year."

"Don't remind me… Miko and Kenji… I still think of them as kids, but they've almost finished growing up. I don't mind losing the money, old folks like us won't be spending it anyways, but the house is going to be lonely once they go to college."

Oni nodded, then went back to rubbing her husband's shoulders.

He stretched a bit in his chair, enjoying her efforts as they relieved the tension that had been building up over the last couple hours, then sighed, "I'll get a job somehow, even if it means going back to teach in high school or elementary school. Maybe I'll teach something other than history… because if I taught history I'd teach all of it." 

"As long as you don't change, I like you just the way you are." His wife gave him a short peck on the cheek. "I had to bring some work home with me, so I'll be finishing that up. Can you handle dinner tonight?"

"Sure, sure, just let me finish this letter." Nozo grumbled.

He didn't mind fixing dinner, he thought traditional roles in the house were silly, especially when his wife had enough work without having too many household chores added. Mostly, he just felt bad about not having a job, ever since they had kicked him out of Kyoto University. He needed to provide, he needed to do something, he needed to be useful, but he didn't see how he could keep his pride and not be at odds with the rest of the world. Sometimes things were so hard.

He wished he was a better husband, one that didn't obsess so much over not having a job, one that was able to prioritize his family over his own ego, but he wasn't. No matter what his wife said, he wasn't the same man he had been a few years ago. Holding his head up high used to come naturally to him, but now it required all his energy. Even though it had only been a little while, it felt like things had changed and time had passed…

So much time…

"Professor Abe, before this committee passes down its judgment, do you have anything to say in your defense?" The dean of faculty asked from behind his massive oak desk. To either side of him, sitting at their own tables were his peers, some he had even considered friends. They were studying their notes, chatting quietly with each other, or doing their best to look confident. They were doing everything but looking at him. It wasn't a good situation. 

Nozo Abe himself sat in a simple wooden chair with a straight back and no armrests. It felt uncomfortable and degrading, yet he did his best to maintain his dignity. He said up straight and faced the dean, a small man with a large nose and a vast sense of self-importance, and did his best to look like a respected professor rather than a convict.

"Yes, I do. The past is what happened, and it is my job to teach it, all of it. This institution hired me for that reason, and I believe to do otherwise would not only breach the trust that has been placed in me by not only you and by my students, but by myself. Not only that, it is my firm belief that to ignore the past is not only foolish, but also dangerous. Do you think that by ignoring World War II it will simply go away and disappear? That's nonsense. Regardless of what we say, Japan was a part of it, we did some horrible things during it, and ultimately we lost." There was some muttering from the assembled faculty, but he didn't care. They had already made their decision and he was almost positive what it was. He would be a teacher one last time.

"Everyone did terrible things then. The fact that we did as well makes us no better or worse than any other nation, but the fact that we now try to pretend that it didn't happen just shows the rest of the world we haven't managed to move on yet. The more we try to hide it, the more we live in the past." He pounded his fist on his knee several times for emphasis as he leaned forward. "I am a teacher, and I will tell our students what we did so that they can make sure it never happens again. I want to live in a world where we can face ourselves, all of ourselves, and still be proud."

Nozo sighed and leaned back, "I'm sure you've already decided what's going to happen to me, and once again I will say that I won't change. My dignity is more important than this job ever could be."

The dean nodded slightly then spoke in a harsh, cold tone, "Then as of this day, May 25th, 1997, you are no longer a member of the faculty of Kyoto University. Have your things removed by the end of the day. This committee's decision is final, you are all dismissed." 

The other professors and administrators stood up and walked out silently, not a world spoken nor a glance given to the man they had just condemned. The dean of faculty remained seated though. He seemed awkward for a moment, then spoke quietly, "Nozo, I'm sorry things didn't work out better. You were an excellent teacher , but too damn hot headed for your own good. I ignored this as long as I could but we were simply getting too many complaints. Anyhow…"

Nozo Abe raised his hand suddenly, cutting the other man off. "Dean Yoshimatsu, I would appreciate it if you addressed me as Professor Abe rather than Nozo. Anyhow, I need to be off now, thank you for you time." 

Without another word he stood up then walked out of the small yet austere room, leaving the stunned Dean alone in it.

Quickly, working to keep his back straight and his head held high, he stepped out of the room and left the building, sparing none of his former associates even a glance. When he left the building he quickly walked down the marble steps to see several of his students and his wife gathered around at the bottom, staring up at him. For a moment, he was at a loss as to what to do. There was nothing he could say, nothing that would change what had just happened, so he simply shook his head a bit, and, ignoring the questions that poured from his students gave his wife a brief hug.

There was complete silence for several long moments. None of them could imagine their strict yet devoted teacher showing the least bit of affection to anyone in public, yet it had just happened. His wife looked almost as stunned as his students did.

Standing up straight once again, their former professor simply said, "I'm sorry. I'm proud to have taught you, and I hope you remember my lessons." 

He bowed briefly to them, then took his wife's hand and walked off. It was spring and the cherry trees were blooming, and their petals danced about them.

So many petals…

Nozo Abe placed his briefcase down on the desk and looked over the class. The faces of a good fifty students, fifty seven according to the class registry, greeted him. Unlike American students these days, they were all properly attired and attentive. They had damn well better be, he thought to himself. Regardless of what liberals thought, he expected respect from his students and planned on giving it to them in return. A few were chatting amongst themselves, but since class hadn't started yet he didn't mind. Let them finish their conversations now, it'll make it easier to listen when it was time. He had been a student too, once, not too long ago either.

Slowly, he stepped up to the lectern and placed his hands on either side of it. Professor Nozo Abe, it had a nice sound to the twenty-seven year old. Dr. Abe might've been better, but he had never finished his final thesis. Anyhow, he had been too eager to start teaching, and when the offer came in he had accepted it immediately and become the youngest Professor at Kyoto University. It was probably for the best that he hadn't, though he didn't like admitting it to himself. It was on World War II, a subject that was rarely studied in Japan, not because it wasn't important, but because society frowned upon it heavily. Ignorant fools, trying to deny the past… oh well, now wasn't the time to go over the matter again, he had a job to do.

He cleared his throat then spoke in a voice rich with strength and authority, "Good morning class, I am your professor, Nozo Abe. This happens to be History 231, 20th Century History, so if you're not in the right class please leave. If you're transferring in, please stop by after class and I'll be happy to sign your forms. Now then, lets get started. I won't bore you with the details of my syllabus, since I'm sure you've all read it, but if you have any questions, again, stop by after class and I'll be happy to answer them. For the next week or so, we will give a general overview of how the 20th century has affected and changed our society, but in the coming months we will take a look at specific events, as well as the rest of the world. It is my hope that by the end of this year, you will have a better understanding of what has shaped our world, and thus yourselves."

Nozo cleared his throat then looked over his class with piercing black eyes. Good, everyone was sitting up and paying attention. One of the major differences between a good teacher and a bad teacher in his experience was that a good teacher made it clear that he would not tolerate poor behavior in the first couple minutes without having to say anything, a bad teacher had to convince their students of it.

"Oh, one final thing before I forget," he said, turning to the board and beginning to write. "At 7pm on Tuesdays and Thursday I will be holding a special session in this class. It's entirely optional and won't be graded, but we will be discussing certain parts of history you won't hear about otherwise."

Suddenly, a hand shot up in the back. He pointed in the direction of it and said, "Yes, Mr.?"

"Tashahki, sir. What do you mean by parts of history we won't hear about otherwise?" The student stood up and gave a brief bow before sitting back down.

Nozo Abe smiled a bit at the student's politeness then scratched at his chin with his fingers. "Well, how do I phrase this… Lets look at it this way. Over the course of your life, you've done things you're proud of, but also things that you regret very deeply. It's the same way with nations. Every nation has things that it's done which make it ashamed and things which make it proud. And, like people, often they will work to remember the great things while ignoring the mistakes. It is your obligation as history students to remember both parts, because otherwise you're not fulfilling your duty as a student of the past, and you will not be adequately able to fulfill your duty as a keeper of it either when the time comes. The sessions are not mandatory, but I strongly recommend everyone attends, because otherwise you're not getting a true education." 

The student nodded slightly, and he could see the rest of the class murmuring amongst themselves.

"Well, like I said, it won't be graded, but if you don't attend it'll be both our loses. Yours as a student because you won't learn everything you should, and mine as a teacher because I will have not fulfilled my duties."

Nozo nodded slightly, then turned to his notes. "Alright then, lets get to business. We've got a long road ahead of us, but I think you'll find it well worth traveling. To better appreciate the bright future you have, it is important to remember the lessons of the past."

Really, they all had bright futures, him included. He had a wife, a home, a good job, everything a man could ask for. Yes, he knew good things were coming. He had ability, but more importantly, he had hope…

So much hope…

The rain was falling, but he was too damn happy to feel bad. It was strange, him, the stern, focused, perpetually disciplined student was laughing his ass off as him and his new wife, Oni, ran from the Taxi towards the restaurant where the reception was taking place. A good many of his guests were also getting wet, including his wife's parents, but there seemed to be a strange good cheer in the air of the Tokyo streets that day. He grinned over at his new father-in-law, a gangly man with white hair, who waved back as his mother-in-law smiled sweetly at him. He had no fear of his wife's parents, they seemed to really like him. He was the devoted, hard worker that any parents would want to see their daughter end up with, and, if the stories he had heard from them were true, he was the exact sort of guy they were worried their daughter wouldn't end up with. 

His wife tugged on his shirt sleeve, though, urging him to go faster and reminding him that her white dress was getting all wet. With a flush of embarrassment , he darted through the revolving doors into the interior with her. It was an excellent place to eat, with a warm yet luxurious atmosphere where the smell of good cooking and the hum of conversation demanded the patrons relax. He and the small reception, a few close friends and their small families, were seated at a group of tables in one corner. Some of the other families were discussing the menus, while a few people were studying the decorations on the walls. There were a good deal of traditional ink paintings, which were oddly complemented by a series of more western pictures. It was interesting to see how the two societies complemented and yet contrasted one another.

He sat down and began to browse the menu while his bride made conversation with her maid of honor and several other friends, most of whom were friends from college. At the age of 21, she was a senior, while he, at 24, was busy with graduate school. They had no illusions about starting a family anytime soon, in spite of their scholarships they were both poor college students, but they wanted to be near each other and knew they'd make it somehow. 

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of something. Abruptly, his attention left his wife and the conversation his best man was trying to have with him, and he looked at his own family hesitatingly entering the restaurant. His mother was there, and his father, and… his grandfather? He had not seen his father and grandfather anywhere near each other in as long as he could remember, not since he was five at least. His father was in his late forties, but still had a look of strength and youth that he had kept with him since he had left the military. His grandfather was almost the exact opposite. He was bald, wizened heavily stooped over a cane, but in contrast to his son's stern bearing, there was a sort of wise humor about the man. He would often play with children or joke around, and in as long as Nozo could remember he had never once seen the man get angry. When he was around him, there was a certain sensation. Not like the old man was fatalistic, but as though he could accept that what happened, would happen. Yes, it was the air of a wise man, and he could never understand how his father couldn't forgive him.

He knew he had gotten a good deal of his personality from his father, but he wished that more of it came from his grandfather.

The group slowly made their way to a table near his and sat down, but soon after all of them had come over to talk to him and his wife. He was smiling, and nodding, and trying to catch everything they said, but he wasn't really paying attention. Sometime during the reception his wife's hand had found his under the table and gently slipped into it. That's what he remembered the most that day. Not the wedding, not the reception, not the food, and not really even that night when their marriage had been consummated. It was the warmth, the softness, the love of his wife's hand as it held his, a silent communication that things would be alright and that forever was possible. Life truly was wonderful…

So very wonderful.

He was playing in the dirt outside his family's house, acting like any five year old should. Mommy said dinner was soon, but Granddaddy told him he could play a little while longer. He was drawing an airplane right now, like one of the big ones that flew over so much. It didn't look much like one though. It wasn't right. His small hand came down in the center of it, and he destroyed the image once again, then frowning, he started over, etching in the dirt with his stick with the devotion of a professional artist. 

His house was brown, with big windows and a door that always creaked when he opened it. Some of the windows were cracked. Mommy said it was from the war, but she never said more than that. Daddy didn't say anything. Inside it was nice, though. There were lots of pictures and big pieces of dusty furniture, and some things Granddaddy said were real old, like from before there were planes. He said they were gods, but when he asked what gods they were all Granddaddy would do was smile and say it was silly to keep them. They were neat looking, though.

Carefully, his stick began to draw in the propellers, making sure they looked like they were spinning, 'cause propellers always spun. It was a fact, like the men who came out of those planes always wore brown and had weird hats. They looked weird too, their skin was pale and their eyes were strange colors, and they were always real tall, even taller than daddy. Most of them ignored him, some were nice though. There was one that passed by his house every day, and sometimes he'd give him a candy bar. He always hid the candy bars from his daddy though. For some reason his daddy didn't like the men, he said it was a "dishonor" they were here. What was a dishonor and why was it so bad?

The five year old Nozo Abe frowned intently, trying to think about this, but all he could come up with was that the plane needed a tail now, so he gave it one. It was looking better this time, maybe it would even look like one of the ones the men flew. He sat back in the dirt and stared up at the sky, hoping to catch sight of one, then realized his mommy would get mad at him for getting his pants all dirty and promptly scampered back up into a standing position and began to frantically brush at the dirt. 

Suddenly, he caught sight of a tall figure walking alongside his house. It was the nice man! The captain who sometimes gave him chocolate! He jumped up and down and began shouting, while waving frantically towards him.

"Hi Capt'n Brown! Hi!" He said excitedly.

The man laughed and waved back, then pointed at the picture he was drawing.

"That looks great! Just like the one I fly!" He said smiling. He talked funny with a weird accent, but Nozo could understand him. Most of the men in the weird clothing didn't even talk like him at all.

"Yep! I drew it!" Nozo said, then nodded to himself proudly. "It's supposed to be a B-ummm…"

"Haha, well, it's very nice kid. I think that deserves…" he grinned. "A candy bar!"

Nozo laughed in excitement then held out his hand. After a moment, he frowned to himself, remembering what the man had told him he should always say when he wanted something. "Ummm… pl… please? Please!"

The man nodded sagely then tossed it to him and waved, before starting to walk again.

"Thanks Capt'n Brown! Thanks!" Nozo grinned then began to run back inside, his mommy would want to eat now. He could save the candy for later. Mommy always said it was good to save things for when you really wanted them.

As he ran through the door, a strong hand came down in the middle of his chest and stopped him. It didn't hurt, but it halted his excited run immediately. The five year old Nozo Abe looked up to see the glowering face of his father, staring angrily down at him. He began to cower in fear, he had never seen his father looking so mad.

"What… did you take from him?" He said in a low, menacing tone.

"A… c-candy bar."

"You accepted a candy bar from that American…" His father's eyes became distant as he suddenly began to look forward. The side of his mouth twitched slightly, a gesture Nozo had only seen once or twice, and both times it had precluded his father flying into a rage. "You took candy from an American bastard.. I fought those men for four long years… I saw friends die because of them… they raped our country, they enslave us now, and you, you, my only son, are eating from their hands like a dog?"

Nozo began to back up against the door. The candy bar, forgotten, fell to the floor. He was trying not to cry, but the tears were slipping out of his eyes. "I… I won't do it again."

"It doesn't matter, you dishonored yourself, you dishonored your family, you dishonored _me_," his father said in a flat, dead voice as he began to raise his hand to strike his son. "You…"

Suddenly, an old, wizened hand came up and grabbed his father's wrist, halting it midair. He had never thought his grandfather could be stronger than his father, yet somehow he managed to stop it before it could come down against him. And there, standing next to his father, was his grandfather, looking firmer and somehow stronger than Nozo had ever seen him before, yet there was a sadness in his eyes rather than anger.

"You can stop that now," the old man said finally. "He has dishonored nothing. Let him have his candy."

Nozo began to look between his father and his grandfather's faces, one still angry, the other sad.

"What do you mean? Did you see what happened?" His father said coldly.

"Yes, I did. What I see is my son acting very hotheaded. The war is over, thank the gods for that, and it's best just to let it become a part of history."

His father was silent.

"I know you don't understand now, but when you're my age and you've seen so much, you learn where things stand. You can't live like this, resenting or trying to reconcile the past every second. You need to move forward, especially when you have so much. You have a son, you have a wife, and you have a lot to look forward to, now move on."

"What do you mean?" His father said, turning his head to stare at his own father in confusion.

"Just live and love, because some day you won't have any of that. Someday, you'll only have your memories, so make them good ones now, or you'll have nothing to do but regret them later. Either way you'll be a silly old man with nothing but his memories, at least try to be happy." His grandfather smiled. "Your young man's war is over."

His father and grandfather hadn't spoken for a long time after that, but several years before his grandfather had died, the two had started spending more time around each other. Maybe his father finally understood. Memories were silly things, but they were wonderful things too, both bad and good, and when he looked back, he saw a long, wonderful life. Not wonderful because it was all good, a great deal had been terrible, but there was so much…

'It's been good', he thought, as he fell closer and closer to the endless light. Or was it an endless sea of light, or of petals, or of hope, or of wonder, of screaming, or of…

Life…

And he fell into it…

And he opened his eyes…

He stood in a long line, stretching forward and backwards into infinity. He didn't know how long he had been there, but it felt like somewhere between a minute and a million years. In front of him, he saw the woman from the nursing home who had woken up from her slumber near the end, and behind him was the dean of faculty, nervously wringing his hands yet smiling excitedly at the same time. He gave both of them a nod and a smile, no ill will borne. 

As the line progressed, onward and onward, he finally saw the end. Two massive doors stood before them, and as each person reached it, they would talk briefly with a strange looking man then the doors would open and they would step through. Finally, his own turn came, shortly after the woman in front of him had issued a squeal of delight then ran through. She seemed younger, no longer old and ravaged by age, but… in her twenties perhaps. Like he was now. For a moment, he simply stared at his hands in amazement, in awe of their smoothness and their strength, then he heard a throat clear in front of him. Before him stood a young man, about his age. He had neatly combed blond hair, calm gray eyes, and a face that could be cold at a moment's notice, but now was warm and smiling with welcome. The only strange thing about him was the flowing green robe, adorned with strange symbols that he wore.

"Hello, Nozo," he greeted warmly. The man had a strange accent, and it took Abe a few seconds to recognize it. It was German, like that girl Sohryu, but infinitely deeper and richer. "I'm glad you made it."

"So am I, it's been an interesting time," Nozo replied, chuckling. 

"It certainly has, but I think you'll enjoy your rest. I'm sure all of us will," the man replied, a hint of pride in his voice. Nozo realized it wasn't out of arrogance, but it was the pride of a man who had accomplished something truly great. "This is for people like you and me."

"Those who're tired, eh?" Nozo grinned slightly. "Why don't you get some rest?"

In response, the doorman laughed then ran a hand through his hair. "Believe me, I'd love to, and I think I've earned it, but before I do that I've got a lot more people I'd like to meet. I've got so many friends to say hello to, you included, even if they don't know it yet. As for you, thank you for coming all this way." The doorman offered a brief bow. "And now, I'll excuse you. I think you've got a class to teach in a little while."

Nozo blinked, then nodded. "Alright then, stop by some time."

"I will."

The teacher stepped through the doors into the light. As his eyes adjusted, he found himself standing at the top of the stairwell which lead down from the entrance of the History Department of Kyoto University. The day couldn't be more perfect. The sky was pristine and blue, and the air carried a lazy warmth, not the heat of the post Second Impact summer, but the pleasant, energetic touch of late spring. In the park, hundreds of people walked about, some holding hands, some talking to each other, some even kissing or embracing, yet he was not offended. They hadn't seen each other in a while, and he couldn't blame them at all. About him, the cherry blossoms swirled and blew, and he began to make his way down the stairs, towards the three people that waited for him at the bottom. His wife stood there, wearing a white sundress that made her hair seem all the darker and her skin all the more beautiful, she was holding hands with his daughter and son, who waved energetically at their father. As Nozo reached the bottom of the stairs, his children ran forward and latched themselves to his legs, stilling his movement. Oni herself walked forward and wrapped her arms around her husband, drawing him close for a moment.

"How was class today, love?" She smiled warmly at him, raising one hand briefly to run a hand through his dark hair.

He gave her a soft kiss on the side of the mouth. "It's wonderful, it really is… I don't think I've ever had a better group of children to teach," he said, then chuckled and added. "It might be due in part to the Class Rep, though. Her name's Hikari, and I don't think I've ever seen anyone that does a better job keeping the students in line."

"Oh?" She grinned, "Sounds a bit like me."

"Feh, I'm easy to keep in line," he grumbled, to which she rolled her eyes and laughed.

"I suppose, I suppose, but it certainly is nice to be here."

"Yes," he smiled. "I've missed you all so much."

__

Come grow old along with me, the best is yet to be

The end of the last for which the first was made.

-Robert Browning

Author's notes: Hello everyone, it's been a little while since I've posted something, so I decided to do this one shot. I got the idea from the Robert Browning poem that I posted at the end. Make of it what you will of the story, it's not exactly conventional, but please leave a review. Anyhow, I'd like to thank Ghola, Sage7, and Weltall Elite for looking it over before I posted this. 

To those of you who're awaiting the next chapter of Red Earth. It's coming slowly, but hopefully it'll be out in the next few weeks. I'm running into some difficulty, but I think the writer's block is almost over.


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